


Timestamps

by SunriseRose1023



Series: The Unexpected Series [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Crying, Emotional Hurt, Emotions, Gen, Postpartum Depression, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-02-19 13:21:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22444963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunriseRose1023/pseuds/SunriseRose1023
Summary: A collection of timestamps to the Unexpected 'verse.
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Reader
Series: The Unexpected Series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1615123
Comments: 6
Kudos: 68





	1. The One Where It Storms

**Author's Note:**

> Two months after Brooklyn’s birth, your friends and family start to notice that their sunny little world is slowly getting dark.

Bucky stepped from his bedroom, eyebrows furrowing. He made his way to the door, grabbing his keys from their resting place, locking the door behind him. He made his way to the apartment next door, sliding the key in the lock and opening the door. 

“Y/N? Honey?”

He poked his head in, concern filling his features when he saw you sitting on the couch. All the lights in the apartment were off, but you were sitting there, elbows on your knees, face in your hands. 

“Hey, what is it?”

You shook your head, lifting it so Bucky could see your red, swollen face. The tears streaming down your cheeks matched the cries he could hear coming from the nursery, the whole reason he came over in the first place, and he walked over, kneeling in front of you. 

You shook your head again, barely able to speak through your tears. 

“She won’t stop. I’ve tried everything and she—“

You sobbed as you reached out, grabbing hold of his arms. Bucky nodded, maneuvering out of your hold to take you in his arms. 

“It’s okay. Just breathe.”  
“I can’t. Every day, she just cries and I can’t make her stop.”

Bucky shushed you, gently rocking you back and forth. You put your face in his shoulder and he held you, glancing towards the bedroom when the baby’s cries got louder. 

“Hey, let me go see if I can calm her down, okay?”

You nodded, and he stood up from the couch, watching you lay down on your side, curling up in a ball. Bucky swallowed as he walked into the nursery, over to the crib where a red-faced baby girl continued to scream. 

“Hey, Brookie. Hey, baby girl. What’s all this fussing about? Huh?”

He reached into the crib and picked her up, holding her against his chest where she could feel his heartbeat. Almost immediately, she calmed down, little shuddering breaths the only evidence she was upset. Bucky glanced towards the living room as he began rhythmically patting the baby’s back, letting out a sigh. 

* * *

Pepper walked the baby around her kitchen as Bucky and Tony sat at the table. Christine walked in without knocking, setting her purse on the counter and walking to Pepper. She laid a hand on Brooklyn’s back, a soft smile coming to her lips. 

“I came as fast as I could. What’s going on?”

Bucky held his hands on his coffee cup. 

“I’m worried about Y/N.”  
“Worried how?”

He shook his head, leaning back in his chair. 

“I’m not a doctor, certainly not a shrink, but …”

He lifted his head and met Christine’s eyes. 

“I listened to Brook cry for twenty minutes through the wall. And when I finally walked over there, Y/N was sitting on the couch and she … she was crying as hard as Brook was.”

Christine shook her head. 

“Having a newborn is tough. We knew that. We knew we’d need to help her—“  
“We have helped her, Chris. Brook’s two months old.”

Christine looked to Tony and shook her head again. 

“So she had a bad day. It’s to be expected. She may still have hormones trying to level out—“  
“I went over there yesterday.”

They looked to Pepper, who sighed as she moved the baby to her other shoulder. 

“I took care of Brook while Y/N slept. I’m not … I’m not bashing her, not trying to say anything at all other than …”

She lifted her head, tears in her blue eyes as she looked to her husband. 

“I think she needs help.”

Christine sank into a chair, shaking her head. 

“She was fine. She was happy. She told Steve to go back to work, that nothing was wrong.”  
“And maybe it wasn’t. But now …”

Bucky looked to Pepper, standing up and walking over to her, easily taking the baby from her arms, cuddling her close. 

“I didn’t know who I needed to help more. Brook, because she was crying so loud, or Y/N, because she was crying so hard.”

Tony stood up and walked to Pepper, taking her in his arms, kissing her forehead. Christine pushed a hand through her hair. 

“Where’s Y/N now?”  
“Her apartment.”

Christine looked to Bucky, who shrugged his shoulders as he patted the baby’s back. 

“I told her I was going to bring Brook over here and she didn’t even acknowledge me.”

Christine nodded, swallowing hard. She looked over to Pepper and tried to smile. 

“Let’s go see her.”

* * *

You were lying on your back on the couch when Pepper and Christine walked in. You didn’t make a move to go to them, and they exchanged a look as they walked to the living room. Pepper sat beside you on the couch and Christine sat on the floor. Neither one of them said a word until you broke the silence. 

“I’m a bad mother.”

Christine shook her head. 

“No, you’re not.”

You nodded, continuing to stare at the ceiling. 

“I am. I can’t make my own baby stop crying.”  
“Babies cry, Y/N.”  
“Not all the time. She’ll start crying, so I pick her up. But she just screams, so I put her back down. But she doesn’t want to be put down. I try to feed her, change her diaper. Nothing helps. Steve will come home and she’s smiling. So happy to see him. But I …”

Tears leaked from your eyes, slipping down your cheeks and wetting your hair. You closed your eyes and Pepper and Christine exchanged a look. Christine swallowed, speaking softly. 

“Honey. How do you feel?”

You sniffled, shaking your head without opening your eyes. 

“Awful. I’m so tired, but I can’t sleep. Steve sleeps all night and I just watch him. If the baby starts crying, he’ll get up and calm her down, then come back to bed. If I get up, I just end up crying with her.”

You shook your head again, opening your eyes. 

“I feel like I can’t focus on anything. The other day, I went to make the baby a bottle and I stood there with the frozen milk pack for half an hour.”

You blew out a breath, closing your eyes again, laying your hands on your stomach. 

“It was so much easier when I was pregnant. I knew she was safe and I knew I was being a good mom because I was taking care of her. And now, I … I’m going to mess her up and she’s barely had a life.”

Christine covered her mouth with a hand and Pepper hung her head. You gave a deep exhale, keeping your eyes closed when the door opened. 

“Hey … everyone.”

Steve set his bags down when he walked inside, one eyebrow raising. 

“Is, uh … is everything okay?”

Christine shared a look with Pepper and Steve’s eyebrows furrowed. 

“Where’s Brooklyn?”

Pepper motioned with her head. 

“Bucky and Tony have her at my place.”

Steve looked at her, and Christine stood to her feet. 

“Stevie, can I talk to you?”

He nodded, and Christine laid a hand on his shoulder as she walked into the hall. He followed her, and she leaned around him, shutting the door to the apartment. 

“Chris, what the hell’s going on?”

She sighed, pushing a hand through her hair. 

“Honey, we’re worried about Y/N.”

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed. 

“What are you talking about? She’s fine.”  
“No, she … she’s not.”

Steve shook his head and Christine sighed again. 

“Bucky went over today because he could hear the baby crying through the wall. And when he walked in, Y/N was crying on the couch.”  
“Brook just gets worked up sometimes. It can be overwhelming.”  
“Brook was in her crib.”

Steve just stared at her and she went on. 

“Same thing happened when Pepper came over yesterday.”

Steve swallowed, shaking his head. 

“So … so, what? I need to get a nanny or something?”  
“No, Steve … I think Y/N needs some help.”  
“Like a nanny?”  
“Like a shrink.”

Christine closed her eyes as Steve turned to see Bucky standing near Pepper and Tony’s door, the baby in his arms. Steve walked over to him and took the baby, kissing her cheeks and the top of her head before settling her on his shoulder. 

“Y/N doesn’t need a shrink. She just … maybe I can take some time off and help out more.”

Christine shook her head. 

“It’s not that, Steve.”  
“Look, I appreciate the concern, but it’s really—“  
“Steve.”

He glanced over his shoulder at Bucky, who sighed. 

“She needs more help than we can give her, man.”  
“Oh, and you’re suddenly a postpartum expert?”

Bucky held up his hands and Christine shook her head. 

“Don’t get mad at Bucky.”

Steve looked to her and Christine shook her head. 

“You’re not to blame here, Steve. It’s not your fault. It’s not something you did or didn’t do. It’s not Y/N’s fault. It’s definitely not Brooklyn’s fault. It just happens sometimes.”

Steve closed his eyes, hand resting on the baby. Christine smiled, walking over and gently rubbing the baby’s head. 

“She thinks she’s not a good mom. She thinks she’s already messing Brook up. She can’t sleep. But … she won’t even say her name, Steve. She just calls her ‘the baby.’”  
“What do I do, Chris?”

Steve met her eyes, his full of sadness and on the brink of tears. 

“Do you think she’ll hurt herself?”

Christine shook her head. 

“I don’t think so, but … this isn’t something that will just go away. This isn’t something we can dance around and pretend not to notice.”

Steve looked up, letting out a breath. Christine laid her hand on the baby’s back and smiled at him. 

“Let us take Brook and you go talk to her.”

Steve sighed, nodding his head. He kissed Brooklyn’s cheeks again, handing her to Christine and kissing the top of her head. He blew out another breath and stepped into the apartment. Pepper stood up from the couch and walked to him, and Steve spoke under his breath. 

“Chris and Buck took the baby back to your place.”  
“I’ll go make sure they don’t corrupt her too much.”

Steve tried to smile, but met her eyes. 

“If … could you keep her tonight?”  
“Of course.”

Pepper went on her toes to kiss his cheek, gripping his shoulder. When the door closed behind her, Steve sighed, toeing his shoes off and walking to the couch. 

“Hey, baby.”

You didn’t move to look at him and he closed his eyes as he sat on the couch, taking your feet in his hands and gently rubbing them. After a moment, your quiet voice broke the silence. 

“I’m sorry.”

Steve glanced towards your face. 

“Sorry for what?”

You sniffled, tears leaking from your eyes. 

“For being a bad mom.”

Steve closed his eyes. 

“You’re not a bad mom.”  
“I am. I can’t take care of our baby. She just cries and I can’t make her stop and it’s my fault.”

Steve moved to slide his hands under you, lifting you to a sitting position, sliding you into his lap. For the first time, he noticed how frail you seemed. He wrapped his arms around you, closing his eyes when he felt your tears dampen his shirt. 

“You’re not a bad mom.”

You didn’t answer, just shook your head. Steve tightened his hold on you while you cried, until you spoke softly. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I feel like I can’t bond with her, Steve. It was so easy at first and now …”

You shook your head, closing your eyes and pushing out of his hold. 

“Maybe you should just take her and leave me here by myself.”  
“Y/N.”  
“Seriously. She’d be better off without me than with me for a mother.”

Steve let his arms fall, just staring as you moved to sit on the edge of the couch, putting your face in your hands as you cried. He swallowed, moving to surround you, looping his arms around you, through your own arms. You moved your hands to grip his arms and he kissed your temple. 

“You listen to me. I’m not going anywhere. Brook’s not going anywhere. There is no one else in this world that could love her the way you do.”

You sobbed, and he leaned his head against yours until you’d calmed a bit. You gave a shaky breath, still holding onto his thick arms. 

“I’m not okay, Steve.”  
“I know, baby.”  
“I don’t know what to do.”  
“Don’t even worry about it. Let me take care of it.”

You nodded, leaning further into him. 

“What are you going to do?”  
“Make a few calls. Find someone who can help you.”  
“You need to go to work.”  
“I’ve got a phone in my office, babe.”

You closed your eyes. 

“What about the baby?”

Steve swallowed as you shook your head. 

“I can’t take care of her. I’m trying, but it’s not enough and …”  
“Shh. It’s okay. All of these people around here can pitch in.”

You nodded, letting your head rest on his shoulder as tears leaked from your eyes. 

“I can’t even take care of my own baby, Steve. How can you even look at me?”  
“Because I adore you. I love you so much, sweetheart. This just might be the worse part of that whole ‘for better or worse’ thing.”

You shook your head, moving it to rest against his. 

“We’re not married, Steve.”  
“Not yet, sweetheart.”

You gave another, quieter sob. 

“How can you still want to marry me?”

Steve kissed your temple, resting his forehead against yours. 

“I love you, Y/N. Every piece of you. Even the tough stuff.”

You turned to crawl into his lap, wrapping your arms and legs around him, and Steve held you just as tightly. 

“We’re going to fix this, baby. I promise.”

* * *

You sat on a couch, legs bouncing as you tried to ignore your nervousness. You closed your eyes, letting out a breath. Steve was right outside, in the waiting room. Bucky had the baby; he’d taken her to his mom’s house. Winnie loved that little girl. 

“Miss Potts?”

You turned to the doorway, where a man with dark skin and kind eyes had just come. He smiled and held out a hand to you. 

“Sam Wilson.”

You laid a hand in his, giving it a weak shake. He sat in the chair across from you, pulling a yellow legal pad into his lap. He smiled, crossing one ankle over his knee. You put your hands together and he gave you a nod. 

“Tell me about yourself.”

Your eyebrows raised and you spoke. 

“I, uh … I’m Y/N Potts. I’m twenty-nine and I just had a baby.”

Sam nodded, lifting his head when you were quiet. 

“Is that all?”  
“I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

Sam had that same easy smile on his face. 

“Why are you here, Y/N?”

You blinked, looking down at your shoes. 

“They didn’t tell you?”  
“No, they did. I want to hear it from you.”

You closed your eyes, swallowing before you spoke again, opening your eyes and keeping them downcast. 

“My friends think I … have postpartum depression.”  
“And what do you think?”

You lifted your head, meeting his kind eyes, feeling your eyes fill with tears. 

“I think they’re right.”  
“So why are you here?”

You gave a shaky breath as tears began slipping down your cheeks. 

“Because I need help. I can’t take care of my baby.”

You shook your head. 

“I don’t feel good. I don’t feel like myself and I hate it.”

You hung your head and bit back the sobs you wanted to give. After a moment, you lifted your head to see Sam with a soft smile on his face. 

“Then you have come to the right place. It’s not going to be easy, and you’re probably going to hate me at some points, but I think we can get you feeling better.”

You let out a breath, nodding your head, taking in a shaky breath. Sam nodded back at you. 

“Then let’s get started.”

* * *

Steve tapped his thumbs together as he looked over the waiting room. He was the only one in the room, save for the receptionist behind the frosted glass window. He’d tried to look at one of the outdated magazines on the chairs and end tables beside him, but he couldn’t focus. 

He stood up, wiping his hands on his pants and slowly walking to the window. He blew out a shaky breath and pulled his phone out of his pocket. 

_“Hello.”  
_ “Hey, Buck.”

Bucky laughed softly. 

_“We’re doing fine, Dad. Brook’s taking in all the sights and smells of Nana Barnes’ house.”_

Steve smiled. 

“I know she’s fine. I don’t worry about her with you.”  
 _“Maybe you should. Ma’s already talking about cookies and I swear she stuffed a dollar in the diaper bag.”_

Steve gave a quiet laugh. After a moment, Bucky spoke again. 

_“How you holding up?”  
_ “Not well. I want to be in there with her, but I know she needs to do this on her own. But goddamn it, I’m about to lose my fucking mind in this waiting room.”  
 _“Breathe, Steve.”_

He hung his head, huffing out a breath. 

_“Tony researched and did his magic. Sam Wilson’s the best out there. It’s a miracle we even got her an appointment.”_  
“Another part of Tony’s magic.”  
 _“Right. But this is going to be the hardest part, Steve. And we knew that.”_

Steve nodded. 

“I know. And if he prescribes some medicine, it may take it a long time to start working.”

Steve ran a hand down his face and Bucky gave a soft laugh. 

_“Stop Googling shit, professor. You know WebMD only tells you the worst.”_

Steve gave a laugh and nodded. 

“Yeah, you’re right. I just … I want my girl back, Buck. I want her to feel better again.”  
 _“I know, buddy. We want her back, too. We just got to hang in there for a little bit longer.”_

Steve nodded, closing his eyes. 

“Where’s Brook?”

He listened to the rustling through the phone for a moment, hearing Bucky gather the baby into his arms, keeping his eyes closed when Bucky spoke again. 

_“She’s right here, Dad. Big, pretty eyes looking around. She likes the ceiling fan.”_

Steve smiled. 

_“What’cha think, baby girl? You like Nana’s house?”_

Brooklyn made a sweet cooing noise that made Steve’s smile widen. Bucky gave a quiet laugh. 

_“Yeah, she likes it here. Nana’s going to try to keep her, but I’m not going to let her. No way.”_

Steve blinked his eyes open. 

“She’s lucky you have you, Buck.”  
 _“Nah, I’m the lucky one. Sweet little Brooklyn James.”_

Steve pushed a hand through his hair. 

“Tell her I love her.”  
 _“Trust me, she knows. You smother us with it. Doesn’t he, little blue eyes? Yes, he does.”_

Steve gave a laugh, nodding his head. 

“Yeah, it’s a character flaw.”  
 _“We forgive you.”_

Steve glanced back at the still-closed door and sighed. He closed his eyes, resting his head on his hand. 

“We’re going to get through this … right?”  
 _“Yeah, Steve. We’re going to get through this. All of us are right here with you.”_

Steve couldn’t speak through the lump in his throat, so he just nodded. Bucky seemed to know that, and he picked up the conversation, talking about nothing in particular, lulling Brooklyn to sleep with his gentle voice while soothing Steve’s racing mind. 


	2. The One With A Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're working through your depression, trying your best to get back to "normal" when an unwanted first occurs with the baby.

You met with Sam three times a week, talking to him about everything you were afraid of, including your many shortcomings in your short time as a mother. The two of you were working on silencing that inner voice that kept telling you no matter what you did, you’d never be good enough. And his homework for you consisted of making sure you called your daughter by name, instead of just referring to her as “the baby.” Calling her by name hurt more, because it somehow made her more real, more yours, instead of some abstract object. 

Steve spoke with his boss, and his boss’ boss, and they decided a sabbatical was the best course of action for him. You and Brooklyn needed him more than he needed to work, and his coworkers understood that. So, he was at home with his girls, taking care of the both of you, trying to navigate an unfamiliar territory. 

Thank God for your friends. 

Tony took care of any expenses, while being a sounding board for both you and Steve. Christine took care of the food, mainly ordering whatever she felt you wanted that day, and you were actually eating a bit more. Christine was a very good guesser. Pepper and Bucky took care of the baby— _Brooklyn_ —whenever Steve needed a break. You couldn’t help but feel guilty for that, for not being the primary caregiver to your child, but Sam assured you that you were doing the right thing. 

All in all, your life was starting to feel like your own again. Maybe that was the low dose antidepressant Sam had prescribed you, or maybe everything was finally working for you. 

* * *

“Baby?”

You glanced up from the crossword puzzle you were doing to see Steve bouncing the baby—no, Brooklyn— as he held her to his chest. You shook your head to clear it and he smiled at you. 

“Can you take her for a second? I’ve tried to lay her down but she starts screaming, and I’ve got to—“  
“Steve.”

He blinked and you gave him a smile. 

“I can hold her.”  
“You sure?”

You rolled your eyes as you stood up, sending a surge of happiness through Steve’s heart. You were finally acting more like yourself, a tiny bit playful with him, finally smiling at the baby— _Brooklyn_ —whenever you looked at her, instead of giving in to the dread that used to fill your heart. 

You walked to him and he passed Brooklyn into your arms. You settled her against your chest, patting her back and nodding to him. Steve smiled at you and rushed into the bathroom, and you shook your head as you slowly walked around the living room. When you passed the couch, you went still, swallowing before you rested your head atop Brooklyn’s. 

“Sweet girl.”

You took in a quiet breath when she shifted, moving to put her forehead against your neck. You closed your eyes as a smile spread over your face, that smile fading as the bathroom door opened. 

“Sorry about that.”

Steve laughed softly as he walked into the living room, coming to a stop when he saw the look on your face. 

“What?”

You lifted your eyes to him, walking closer. 

“Does she feel warm to you?”  
“What?”

Steve shook his head, closing the distance and putting the back of his hand against Brooklyn’s forehead. 

“I don’t know. I mean, I run hot anyway, but—“  
“There’s a thermometer … somewhere in her room.”

Steve swallowed and stepped around you, running to the nursery and digging until he found the thermometer, which didn’t look anything like what he was expecting. 

“This has to be it. I just have no idea—“  
“Just hold it against her forehead.”  
“Seriously?”

You nodded, and he turned it on, doing what you said, pulling back when he heard the beep. His eyes widened when he saw the number on the screen. 

“102.5.”  
“Steve.”

He stared at the screen, looking to you and shaking his head. 

“I … I don’t …”

He blew out a breath, lifting a hand to push through his hair. 

“What do we do?”

You looked down at the baby—Brooklyn—and gave a shaky exhale. You shook your head, then looked back to Steve. 

“Call Christine.”

He furrowed his eyebrows and you nodded. 

“She’s at work. She’ll know what to do.”

Steve nodded, going to the kitchen counter and grabbing his phone. He walked back over to you, pushing a hand through his hair as he held the phone to his ear. His eyes widened before he spoke. 

“Chris! I … I …”

He stammered a few more times and you shook your head. 

“Put her on speakerphone.”

He nodded, laying the phone down, shaky finger pressing the button a second before Christine’s voice came through the line. 

_“Steve? What’s wrong? Talk to me.”  
_ “Chris, hey.”  
 _“Y/N? What’s going on?”  
_ “Chris, Brook’s got a fever.”  
 _“A fever?”_

You nodded, brushing a hand over her soft hair, feeling the heat from her little body.

 _“How high is it?”  
_ “102.5”  
 _“Oh, goodness. Is she acting sick?”_

You shook your head. 

“No, she just wants to be held. She’s a little fussy, won’t let us put her down.”  
 _“I’ve got a friend who works up on the pediatric floor. Let me talk to her and I’ll call you back, okay?”_  
“Thank you.”

The call ended and Steve shook his head, stepping closer to you and laying a hand against Brooklyn’s back. 

“She’s okay.”

You smiled, nodding your head as you stepped closer to him. 

“She’s okay, Steve. Babies get fevers.”  
“I just … She’s barely let me put her down all day. How long has she had that fever? And I didn’t even—“  
“Hey, don’t do that.”

He shook his head and you moved a hand to rest it against his chest. 

“She’s okay, honey.”  
“But I didn’t notice.”  
“This isn’t your fault.”

Steve hung his head, blowing out a breath. You moved your hand to his face and he leaned into your touch, eyes drifting closed.

It hadn’t happened on purpose, but the two of you had grown apart. Between dealing with a newborn and the depression you fell into, you both unwittingly pulled away. You never stopped sleeping in the same bed, and it always gave you a sense of relief when you found your way into his arms in the night, waking up with his arms around you. But the little touches and kisses you’d grown used to had all but stopped. 

You let your hand fall as the phone rang, and Steve scrambled to answer it, putting the speakerphone on again. 

“Chris?”  
 _“Hey, so I talked to my friend Clare. Is Brook eating regularly?”  
_ “Yes.”  
 _“And has she had her normal amount of wet diapers?”_

Steve nodded, closing his eyes as he answered her out loud. 

_“There’s really nothing else to do except watch her. She’s too little for Tylenol or anything like that.”_  
“So we … I mean, what if her fever rises?”  
 _“If it gets any higher than 104, I’d bring her to the ER. But babies get random fevers sometimes. Just watch her, make sure she keeps having wet diapers, try and keep her taking her bottles like usual. If she starts acting lethargic or her fever climbs, bring her in.”_

Steve pushed his hands through his hair and you nodded. 

“Thank you, Christine. I appreciate this.”  
 _“No problem, honey. I’ll be up all night, so call me anytime.”  
_ “We will. Thanks.”

You ended the call and Steve shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I feel worthless.”  
“You’re not worthless.”  
“How am I supposed to just sit here and watch her while she’s sick? And she can’t even tell me what’s wrong. I just have to guess, but what if I guess wrong?”

He shook his head, dropping his arms and walking over to stand behind a chair. He gripped the back and let out a breath. He looked over to you, watching you smooth the dark hair on your daughter’s head, seeing her little eyes blink heavily as she found him. Steve swallowed, looking down as his watch beeped. 

“Time for a bottle.”  
“Maybe we should wait a bit.”  
“Chris said to keep feeding her.”

“Yeah, but look at her, Steve. She’s exhausted, and she seems fine right now. I’ll just hold her for a while and if she gets fussy, we can fix a bottle.”

Steve swallowed again, but nodded. 

“We’ll just … wait.”

* * *

You bounced Brooklyn on your shoulder, one hand patting her bottom as she whimpered and squirmed in your arms. Steve was heating a bottle in the kitchen while you tried to calm the baby. _Brooklyn_. 

She’d slept for a little bit, while you and Steve tried— and failed—to watch a show on Netflix. Neither of you could focus. Now, she was awake and fussing. 

“Here we go.”

You shifted Brooklyn from your shoulder and handed her to Steve, but she immediately began to wail. Steve shushed her, big hands holding her safe and secure, but she wouldn’t stop crying. He couldn’t get the bottle into her mouth, and she wouldn’t hold still. You shook your head, taking the bottle from his hand and setting it on the kitchen counter, taking the—Brooklyn from his arms and holding her to your chest. 

“It’s alright, sweetheart. Shh. You’re okay.”

Brooklyn almost immediately quieted, pitiful whimpers leaving her lips as she snuggled closer to you. Steve picked up the thermometer and held it to her temple, cursing under his breath. 

“103.”  
“Text Christine and see if there’s anything we can do. Give her a cool bath or something.”

Steve nodded, picking up his phone and shooting off a text. He waited a few moments, eyes lighting when he received a return text. 

“She said try a lukewarm bath. Not hot or cold. And dress her like we usually do, don’t try to make her sweat or let her go naked.”

You nodded, cupping Brooklyn’s head in your hand. Steve stared at the two of you, then nodded, walking into the bathroom and running water in the sink. You followed him in there, the two of you working together to get the baby undressed and into the water. She fussed for a moment, your voice soothing her as you spoke softly. Steve cupped water in his hands and let it flow over her belly and back, speaking softly. 

“She usually loves a bath. She kicks and splashes.”

You looked at her feet and gave a shaky breath, shaking your head. 

“I don’t like this. I don’t like that she’s sick and we can’t do anything about it.”

Steve leaned over, kissing your temple before resting his forehead there. You closed your eyes, leaning into him. Brooklyn whimpered and you turned to look at her, letting out a sigh. 

“I think the water may be getting cold.”  
“Let me grab some pajamas for her.”  
“Just hand me a towel and we can go together.”

Steve nodded, grabbing a towel from the little basket on the rack above the toilet, helping you dry the baby off and wrap her in it. 

“Don’t you pee on Mommy before we get a diaper on you.”

You laughed at Steve’s words, shaking your head and patting Brooklyn’s back. You followed him into her room, laying her on the changing table and quickly getting a diaper on her. Steve found a pair of pajamas that were white with purple butterflies on them, and the two of you quickly got her dressed. Steve tried to take her from you, but Brooklyn fussed and started to cry. He shook his head and you gently rubbed a hand over his thick shoulders. 

“It’s okay. I can take her.”  
“I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

Steve closed his eyes when you pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. You took Brooklyn from him, settling her on your shoulder, gently patting her bottom. 

“There’s just something about having your mom there when you’re sick.”

Steve nodded, watching you walk back into the living room, sitting in one of the chairs and gently rocking. Brooklyn whimpered, snuggling closer to you, and Steve nodded.

“Should we try the bottle again?”  
“Yeah, let’s do that.”

Steve went to fix the bottle, back in a few minutes. You shifted Brooklyn into the cradle of your arm, and she immediately started to fuss, squirming, refusing to take the bottle. You shook your head, moving her back to your shoulder, but she started to cry. You looked to Steve, who was crouched beside the chair, shaking his head. 

“I don’t know what to do.”

You shook your head, meeting his eyes. 

“Me either.”

You moved Brooklyn to your lap, where the two of you could look at her, and a thought came to your mind. 

“What … what if I …”  
“What, baby?”

You swallowed. 

“What if I tried to nurse her?”

Steve kept his face passive, slowly nodding. You had stopped nursing Brooklyn shortly before you started seeing your therapist. Instead, you pumped your breast milk, so that the bab– _Brooklyn_ could still get the nutrients she needed.

You met Steve’s eyes, staring at him for a moment before he stood up, taking the baby from you, patting her back and shushing her as best he could while she cried. You took the T-shirt you’d been wearing off, shivering once in the cool air of the apartment, feeling your cheeks burn. Steve handed Brooklyn back to you, helping you maneuver her a bit until you slipped a nipple in her mouth. After a silent moment, you gasped. Steve met your eyes and you blinked multiple times before finding his eyes. 

“It’s working.”

Steve smiled as he looked down, seeing Brooklyn’s cheeks move as she nursed. 

“Guess she just needed to be closer to you.”

Steve looked back to your eyes, the smile slipping from his face as he noticed the tears trailing down your cheeks. 

“Y/N?”

You shook your head, holding out a hand, squeezing his hand when he linked it with yours. You gave a quiet sob, shaking your head again, clutching tightly to him. Steve moved closer, his other hand moving to cup your cheek as you closed your eyes, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours. You leaned into the touch, your tears slowing, shaky breaths leaving your lips. 

The two of you didn’t say anything else, only letting go of each other to move Brooklyn to your other breast. Steve draped a blanket over your shoulders, watching as you stared at your daughter, one finger slowly stroking her chubby cheeks. 

Brooklyn fell asleep while nursing, and you moved her to your shoulder to burp her. Once she did, she gave a sweet little sigh, full and content in her mother’s arms. Steve grabbed the thermometer, checking her temperature again. 

“Hey, it’s down to 101.”

You smiled at him, and he set the thermometer on the table beside the chair you were sitting in. 

“Do you want me to take her?”

You shook your head, and he smiled, nodding. You met his eyes, mouth moving like you wanted to say something, but you didn’t. Steve licked his lips, voice pitched low. 

“What if you moved to the couch, and I … I could sit by you? Maybe … maybe I can hold you?”

Fresh tears came to your eyes, because that was exactly what you wanted. You nodded, and Steve helped you stand, sitting on the couch and resting an arm along the back of it. You moved to sit and stretch out beside him, resting back against his chest. You hadn’t put your shirt back on, and Brooklyn was nestled between your breasts, right over your heart. Steve draped a blanket over the two of you, hand moving to rest against Brooklyn’s back. 

You leaned your head back, catching Steve’s eye, seeing the soft smile on his lips. You blinked, watching his eyes drift from your own to your lips, and you nodded. His eyes widened, but he leaned in, gently pressing his lips to yours. You gave a soft whimper, wrapping one arm around the baby, pushing your other hand into Steve’s hair, holding him against you. He gave a soft laugh, murmuring against your lips.

“Easy, baby.”

You kept your eyes closed, cheeks burning as Steve kissed your forehead, then your cheek. 

“I’m so proud of you. Do you know that?”  
“Steve.”  
“I’m so serious. Look at you right now.”

You glanced to your chest, where Brooklyn was sleeping peacefully. You shook your head, moving to rest your cheek against Steve’s chest, voice barely a whisper. 

“I couldn’t do this without you.”  
“I’m not going anywhere.”

He kissed the top of your head, fixing the blankets around you and Brooklyn. 

“Rest, Y/N. I’ll be right here.”  
“You need to rest, too.”  
“I will. Just let me worry about my girls for a while.”

You smiled, shifting the slightest bit, snuggling closer to him. His hand moved to cover yours on Brooklyn’s back, and you slowly drifted off to sleep. 

* * *

You woke when you felt yourself be lifted, and Steve spoke softly. 

“Hey, it’s okay. I got you. You’re alright.”  
“The baby. Where’s—“  
“Her fever broke an hour ago. I just put her in the crib and she’s out.”

You nodded, looping your arms around his neck. Steve carried you into your bedroom, laying you on the bed. He pulled your pajama pants down your legs and you shivered. 

“Do you want one of my shirts?”  
“No.”  
“I don’t want you to get cold.”  
“Come hold me.”

He stopped where he was facing the dresser, glancing over his shoulder to see you pulling the covers closer to you. You looked at him and shivered again, sleepy eyes blinking as they met his, quiet voice thick with exhaustion. 

“Is that okay?”

Steve swallowed, nodding. He tugged his shirt over his head, climbing into bed in his underwear, watching you roll onto your side. He pulled you closer, until you were his little spoon, and you sighed. 

“You’re so warm.”

He just blinked, closing his eyes as he breathed you in. Your voice was soft when you spoke, seeing the early morning hour on the clock beside the bed. 

“I feel like we need to talk, but I’m so tired.”  
“Rest, sweetheart. I’m right here. We can talk tomorrow.”

You nodded, settling your hand on top of his as he wrapped his arms around you. Surrounded in warmth by the man who loves you, you fell into a peaceful slumber. 

* * *

“So, anything new you want to talk about?”

You were sitting on the couch in Sam’s office, staring out the window at the clouds rolling by. You had a soft smile on your face, and your voice was quiet when you spoke. 

“Brooklyn had a fever a couple nights ago.”  
“She okay?”

You nodded. 

“We took her to the pediatrician, but she didn’t find anything wrong. Just a random bout of fever, I guess.”

You looked to your therapist then, a smile coming to your lips. 

“Steve said she’d been fussy all day, but I was the one who noticed something was wrong. I held her and she wouldn’t let me let her go. And she … she wouldn’t take a bottle, so I …”

Sam nodded, and you exhaled as you spoke. 

“I nursed her.”

His eyes widened and you gave a quiet laugh. 

“She was sick and she only wanted me and I took care of her and now she … she’s fine.”

Tears came to your eyes as another laugh left your lips. 

“I took care of my sick baby like a real mom does.”  
“Y/N, you _are_ a real mom.”  
“I know, I just … I haven’t felt like one in a long time.”  
“But you do now?”

You smiled, nodding at him. 

“I do.”


End file.
